Elastic Hearts
by LorelaiNorth32
Summary: Emily and Spencer struggle to find and forgive themselves during and after the dollhouse. They may find more than they hoped for. Spemily. A little divergence from canon regarding events in the dollhouse.
1. Chapter 1

It's dark. Emily lies in her bed, eyes wide open. She flinches at every sound. She hasn't slept in days. She can't even close her eyes, because that's when the Unspeakable Things happen. Her stomach stopped growling long ago, and her throat is so sore she can barely hear herself speak when she gives herself pep talks.

She used to give herself pep talks before big swim meets to calm her nerves. That's the only way she's been able to keep going now. She looks in the Fake Mirror in her Fake Room and repeats, "Everything is going to be okay. We are going to find a way out of here. Everyone is looking for us. They'll find us. They will." But she can never quite believe herself.

It's stupid, but even with all the terrible things she's seen in the dollhouse, the image most branded into her mind is Ali's face when the jury pronounced her guilty. She thinks of Ali curled up in her jail cell, scared and lonely, like she was those years on the run. She thinks of how she accused Ali of killing Mona and allowed the police to catch her instead of helping her run, and she can't help but think she deserves this. Not the other girls, they haven't done anything. But she, the one who was supposed to love Ali, the one that Ali trusted the most, betrayed her. She deserves to be punished for that.

The lights in her room click off, like they do every night for three minutes. Maybe she should try to go see one of the other girls. But she can't bear to see the hurt and anger in their eyes. Does Spencer know how many times she pressed her button? Does she know that she did it because Spencer is the strongest of them all?

Suddenly, the door to her Fake Room is flung open. Emily jumps backward in her bed, pulling the sheets over her chest. Not again, please, God…

"Emily?" whispers a scratchy voice.

She sighs in relief, leaning forward. It's only Spencer, not Him. Then her heart starts racing again.

"Spence, if he catches you…" she lets the statement hang.

"I know," Spencer says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she comes closer. "I know, but I just had to…I don't know. I needed to know that you're still you, really _you_ , no matter what he tries to make us be." She sinks onto the bed beside Emily, eyes red, hair wild. She looks deep into Emily's eyes for a long moment. Then, perhaps finding what she is looking for, her gaze slips to Emily's chapped lips, tangled hair, her still-perfect swimmer's shoulders. She seems lost in thought.

"I don't think I am, Spencer. I'm not _good_." Emily says, ducking her head in shame. "This is all my fault. If I had just believed Ali, none of this would have happened. And I'm so sorry for hurting you. It kills me, every day, hearing you scream…" She sobs into her hand. "I hear your voice- not anyone else's- over and _over_. It never stops. I'm not strong like you. Mona knew that, Ali knew it, and now Charles knows, too."

"Em, no." Spencer grabs her hand, giving the door a nervous glance. "I don't blame you for this. This is no one's fault but _his_. And you _are_ strong. You're the strongest of us all. I've always known it." She holds Emily's hand a moment longer, as if there is something else she wants to say. Shaking her head, she says, "I'm sorry, I have to go. He can't know I came or he'll be angry." Her hand trembles as she pulls away.

Spencer walks quickly to the door, then pauses. "I'll see you tomorrow night," she whispers. Then she's gone. Not fifteen seconds later, the lights return. Emily stays still, remembering the heat of Spencer's hand on hers. For the first time in days, she might finally be able to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The next night, Emily looks up expectantly when the lights go off. In seconds, her door is open and Spencer is crawling into bed beside her. She doesn't speak, just lays her head on Emily's shoulder. Emily puts her arms around her. They don't speak at all; they don't need to. They are both dying for human contact. Then Spencer untangles herself and runs back to her room.

This goes on for what feels like months, but is probably only days. Emily feels guilty about not visiting the others, but she doesn't want to give up the feeling of Spencer's head on her chest, the chance to escape the Charles' hell for three minutes. She doesn't know what it means, that she is the one Spencer has chosen to comfort her. She also doesn't know what it means that when Spencer is in bed with her, she starts to feel things she hasn't felt in ages. She catches her breath when Spencer says her name, and every touch makes her whole body feel alive.

She feels guilty that Spencer is coming to her for comfort, and she is imagining the taste of Spencer's lips. Before the dollhouse, probably they would have tasted like coffee.

Some days she thinks that Spencer might feel the same way. Then she shakes herself. Spencer is straight. She's dating Toby. She definitely doesn't have feelings for Emily.

Tonight, Spencer is different when she slips into Emily's bed. Instead of lying down, she pulls her knees to her chest, staring off into space. She gnaws on her bloody fingernails relentlessly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Emily asks gently, resting her hand on Spencer's knee. Spencer jumps at the contact. She doesn't speak for a moment.

"I think I killed someone, Emily." She sobs into her hand, one long, shuddering gasp.

"What? What do you mean you _think_ you killed someone? Are you talking about Charles?"

"No! Or…I don't know. It's not him, because we're still trapped here. I woke up today- I mean, I think it was today, I don't know- and I was absolutely covered in blood. It was all over my hands and my shirt…" Her voice gets high, and she lets out a little whimper .

"There was a puddle of blood coming from behind one of the doors. But I couldn't open it." Spencer takes a shaky breath, rocking back and forth. "What if I…what if it was Aria or Hanna?" She presses her hand to her forehead, a few tears slipping down her cheeks.

"It wasn't." Emily says, much more confidently than she feels. "He wants to keep us alive for some reason. If he wanted us dead, he would have done it months ago, instead of taking us to this place. He wants something from us, and we have to be alive for it to happen."

Spencer's eyes light up. She looks at Emily like a person drowning in the ocean might look at a life preserver.

"I thought that, but who else could it be? Mona? But she's playing the part of Alison, his favorite. We're the only ones here." She bites her fingernails with renewed fervor, wincing as fresh blood stains her fingertips.

"Stop it, Spencer." Emily says, voice breaking. "This is just another one of his games."

"I just- I couldn't live with myself if I…if it was one of them."

"It wasn't." Emily says firmly, pulling Spencer's hands away from her mouth and grasping them between hers.

"It's almost three minutes, Em." She hesitates, then wraps her arms around Emily in a quick embrace. Emily holds her tight, imagining that they are in her Real Room, that they are having a sleepover, that Spencer is not actually leaving her alone in this terrible place for another endless 24 hours.

"Don't go," she whispers, too quietly for Spencer to hear, as the other girl scurries out the door. She rolls over and rests her hand on Spencer's side of the bed, which is still warm. She pretends that Spencer is in the bathroom, and that her mom will be up in a minute with fresh cookies. She can almost imagine her father opening her door to check on her, like he always does when he's home.

Then the lights come on.

She hides under the covers like a child.


	3. Chapter 3

Spencer stares straight ahead at the wall. She hasn't moved from the bed all day, even to eat. She's been awake for at least 46 hours (she's counted). To keep her brain occupied, she has been mentally reciting all the Russian czars, Chinese dynasties, and British monarchs.

Her eyes are not cooperating, though. Every few minutes she can feel them begin to shut, as if there are fifty lb. dumbbells tied to the lids. Sleeping is not an option, because her dreams are even worse than anything she has experienced so far. She can feel the electric jolts, hear Hanna's screams. She should have known that her mind could replicate exactly the feeling of Charles' torture.

Then there is the blood. In her dreams, it covers her hands, soaks her shirt. She can taste the coppery flavor on her tongue. Lying beside her, pale and lifeless, is always one of the girls. Eyes wide open, like they really are dolls. Sometimes it's Emily lying there, and she wakes up screaming into her pillow, then paces around her room in a cold sweat.

She's terrified for all of her friends, but especially for Emily. She's always felt especially protective of her, but she doesn't know why.

Okay, she does know why. She's a Hastings, after all. She's analyzed it and determined that she _likes_ Emily. Like, maybe a little too much. Maybe even loves her. Which is confusing, because she had thought that she loved Toby. But this feeling…it's like nothing she's ever felt for Toby or anyone else. It's like she's a sun orbiting Emily's planet.

Lights out. Spencer leaps from her bed, bare feet tripping a little over her night gown. Her feet slap against the freezing concrete for ten too-long seconds, and then she's in Emily's room.

Emily is sitting up, waiting. The swimmer somehow musters a trademark Emily Smile- all shyness and kindness and completely unaware of her goddess status. Inwardly, Spencer rolls her eyes good-naturedly. _Only Emily_ could smile in this hellhole.

What if she kisses Emily right now? Would she kiss her back? Would she decide Spencer was just another wounded animal in need of saving and just pat her on the leg and remind her of Toby?

That's stupid, Hastings. Don't kiss her. She loves Paige. Or Ali. Paige? Maybe both. There isn't room for a psychotic know-it-all in her life. But she can't help wondering…

She sits down beside Emily, trying to gather the courage. If she just had this one thing, the memory of Emily's lips on hers, maybe it would be enough to drown out the shocks and the blood.

She leans forward and presses her lips to Emily's, so softly. They are cracked, but pillowy, and somehow still soft.

"Spence," Emily murmurs, shaking her from her reverie. She jerks her head back.

"I'm so sorry, Em," she mumbles. "I shouldn't have." Walking towards the door, she runs her hands through her wild, curly hair. All she can think is: _Emily Emily Emily perfect perfect perfect._

"Wait!" Emily calls. "Spence!" But Spencer keeps walking fast. Her face burns with shame as she runs back to her "room." Emily was the only thing good in this literal hell, and now she had ruined the comfort that they had both gotten from their friendship by kissing her. God, Emily probably hates her now. Spencer always ruins everyone's relationships.

One thing she knows: she can't bear to hear Emily tell her that she still has feelings for Paige or Ali. She just can't.


	4. Chapter 4

When Spencer sees Aria step out of her "room", pink streak in her hair and all, she feels relieved. And then she feels bile rising in her throat. She can't explain it, but she's never seen anything more disturbing than little Aria standing in the doorway with her butchered hair, quivering.

Emily joins them, arms crossed and not really meeting their eyes. Spencer hasn't seen her look this way since the time that Wilden outed her to the girls. Spencer wonders if Emily is upset about the kiss, or if…no. She can't let herself think that way.

Hanna walks out, the usual fire in her eyes gone. Spencer _should_ be relieved that she, in fact, did not kill any of her best friends, but all she can think of is how miserable and broken they all are.

When Spencer tells the girls to set the dollhouse on fire, she knows that they could all burn to death. Part of her thinks that they would be better off. How could they possibly go on living their lives after this, like nothing ever happened? Like they would ever be able to forget. If they were dead, they would finally be free of Charles. Maybe that's the only way they can ever be sure of escaping him.

As she burns Charles' childhood memories, she feels a sense of peace. One way or another, the nightmare will end tonight. And if she dies? She never has to think of the What Ifs again.


	5. Chapter 5

The smoke is choking her. She's coughing, dying. _Finally_. She's accepted it. But then, the exit flies open and they're free. In shock, she holds on to the closest person for dear life. Mona. Drops of water land on her arms, and she realizes she is crying-sobbing. Toby emerges from the dark cover of the woods, and she dives into his arms. He holds her close, and she feels like finally this might be over. Then she looks over to see Emily with Ali. The pang of jealousy she feels is strong enough to make her bite her tongue. _Be relieved, Hastings_ , she reminds herself. _You're safe now_.

At the hospital, she finally begins to relax. People are constantly going in and out of her room, and no one leaves her by herself. Later, all the girls come to her room, and they briefly discuss how Andrew is supposedly Charles. Spencer doesn't believe it. After being arrested twice for crimes she didn't commit, she knows that even the most damning evidence can be misleading. But she also knows that the rest of the girls need to believe that they are safe, that the man who did this to them cannot possibly hurt them anymore, so she doesn't fight them about it. She tries to catch Emily's eye, but the other girl just stares at her lap until a nurse gently asks them all to return to their rooms. They keep Spencer in the hospital overnight, and thanks to the medication they give her, she finally has a dreamless sleep for the first time in ages.

The next morning, she is released from the hospital. Toby offers to stay with her at her home, and she almost says yes, just because she is terrified of being alone again. But Toby is not who she wants. And she shouldn't feel guilty for that- she just escaped a living hell, for god's sake- but she does. Toby can't keep the waking nightmares away. Emily is the only one she wants, the only one who can calm her nerves in the daytime. Everything about her is like Spencer's own personal drug: her long, silky hair, her perfectly round fingernails, her smooth, smooth skin.

Just before bedtime, a new hell is unleashed. Her mother won't let her have the pills that let her sleep. It's grossly unfair after what she's been through, that she would hold Spencer's minor dabbles in drugs against her now after she was _kidnapped_ and _tortured for weeks_. But she does, and Spencer hasn't been able to formulate a plan around it yet, so she cries angry tears and tosses and turns all night. She had moved her dresser in front of her door before crawling in bed, as quietly as she could. The window was harder to secure, but she was able to move her wardrobe in front of it to block it. Still, she sits curled in a ball on her bed. She doesn't think she'll ever sleep again, not without drugs or Emily.

After a couple hours, she pulls out her phone and dials Emily's number. Her finger hovers over the Call button. _No, Spencer. She's probably knocked out from the meds, meds that she's allowed to have because she never had a drug problem. Let her rest_. Reluctantly, she sets the phone back down on her bedside table. Then she crawls into Toby's rocking chair and pulls her knees to her chest. She drapes the blanket over her knees and closes her eyes. _Please_.

She doesn't even know what she's begging for.

* * *

Emily had known at the hospital that she had to find something to protect herself with. She _needed_ her dad to be there to keep her safe, like when she was little. But the Army wouldn't let him come home, not even to see his only daughter who had barely escaped the clutches of a psychopath. So she wrapped herself up in his jacket and hoped she could absorb some of his bravery.

Breaking into the gun cabinet was easier than she thought. She has the gun under her pillow now, which is probably not smart, but the safety's on. She starts at every noise outside her window- every owl screeching and car backfiring. She's afraid that if she falls asleep, she'll wake up and forget that she's in her Real Room now. So she scribbles notes to herself and tapes them to the walls around her bed to remind herself, just in case.

She thinks that maybe she should have spent more time with her mom when she got home. It must have been hard for her, having her only child missing for 3 weeks. But she can't be around her mom right now. Her mom keeps asking Emily if she's really okay, and prodding her to talk about what happened.

She _can't_ ever tell anyone what happened to her. Only the other girls know, and they're the only ones who can understand. It's not a thing she can explain. She can't explain the tingling fear that spreads through her body at the sound of an intercom, or why the sight of board games make her want to scream. She can't just tell someone why she deleted all the pictures she had from prom, why she'll never go to a dance again. She can't even swim to relax now, because he's ruined that too. She'll never go in the water again. Just the thought makes her breath catch in her throat.

Emily also can't tell her mom why she doesn't want to be touched. Her mom definitely won't understand that one, and she doesn't want to hurt her more by telling her. It would break her heart. So she keeps it to herself. She has been a pro at hiding her feelings from everyone else since middle school, when she started to notice that she felt differently about girls than her friends did. She has always had a thing for Ali, but Spencer was unexpected. Before the dollhouse, she had caught herself looking at the brunette a little too long, heart skipping a beat when Spencer showed up to her house in the morning with coffee, talking a mile a minute. She'd pushed the feelings aside, because Spencer is straight, and she knows by now that falling in love with straight girls is a stupid, masochistic thing to do. But as she stares at her ceiling, she can't help but wonder about the kiss in the dollhouse. Did it mean anything? Does anything that happened in there have a meaning outside of the dollhouse?

She wishes that Spencer were here now to climb into her bed and wrap her arms around her. _Forget it,_ she tells herself _. You're a big girl, Em, and you're going to have to spend the night alone._ She sighs and rolls over.


	6. Chapter 6

When they finally decide to go back to school, the girls keep their heads down, trying unsuccessfully to blend into their lockers and desks. Spencer wants to punch the entire student body, who are alternately giving them judgmental and pitying looks. She especially wants to punch the ones that look at Emily that way, because she can see Emily crawling deeper into herself anytime she catches one of their glances.

The four girls and Ali sit in the quad at lunch, Emily's hand resting so close to Spencer's on the table that Spencer could easily reach out and hold it. But Ali is there too, so she doesn't. Spencer's hand twitches with the effort of not moving it. Instead, she downs the day's fourth cup of coffee.

"Easy, Spence," Emily says, brows furrowed. "That's a lot of caffeine."

Hanna rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Spencer is a machine that runs on like, coffee, instead of oil or whatever. She always drinks like that. I mean, she did, Before." She looks down at her lap.

"Yeah, but that was Before," Emily says slowly. "Spencer said her parents won't let her have sleeping pills, so this is going to keep her up all night-"

"That's the plan," Spencer mutters. Emily shoots her a concerned look.

"If Spencer wants to drink a hundred cups of coffee, she can," Aria says. "This isn't the Dollhouse. No one gets to control what we do anymore."

"That's not what I meant, Aria," Emily says. "I'm just trying to help her-"

"By controlling her," Aria interjects.

"Hey," Spencer says, seeking to de-escalate the situation. "Emily's right." It pains her very soul to do it, but she gets up and drops her half-full black coffee in the trash can. Emily gives her a small smile, and Spencer's heart feels like it will beat out of her chest. Hmm. Maybe Em was right about the caffeine, after all.

"Sorry for snapping," Aria says after Spencer sits back down. "I don't know where it came from. I just feel so angry, all the time."

"It's okay. I do, too," Emily says. Hanna and Spencer nod.

Ali looks uncomfortable. For the first time, it seems like she has no idea what to say to the other girls. Instead, she reaches out and takes Emily's hand. "I'm so sorry," she says, rubbing the back of Emily's hand with her thumb and causing Spencer to see red. Ali looks at each of the girls in turn. "I'll never know what you all went through, but Andrew is behind bars now. He's not going to hurt you anymore. You're safe."

They all quietly consider this. It's easy for Ali to declare that they're safe, considering she was never taken to begin with, despite the lie she told the police about where she was those two years she was missing. Spencer can't help but think that everything that happened is Ali's fault. Charles (who Spencer believes is almost certainly not Andrew) is theoretically Ali's brother, after all. And despite this connection, what has happened to Ali? Sure, she went to jail for a month or two. But was she stalked and tormented for years before ultimately being kidnapped and tortured in a place that was designed to make even home feel tainted and unsafe? Was Ali forced to inflict psychological and physical pain on her best friends for weeks, and potentially kill an innocent person? No. Ali has no idea what they've been through together. She doesn't get to tell them they're okay now.

Emily lays her head on Ali's shoulder, and Spencer clenches her hands into fists. It's not fair. She tries to remind herself that Charles is the enemy, that he and only he is to blame, but it's so hard to remember those things when Ali is practically seducing Emily across the table.

"I have to go," she says, standing abruptly and dumping the rest of her tray in the trash.

"Where?" Emily asks, sitting up and removing her hand from Ali's.

"Um…I'm supposed to meet with my AP teachers to try to make up for everything I missed when we were…gone."

"I'll go with you," Emily says, standing and following her out the door. "I need to talk with my teachers, too."

Spencer shuts her eyes tightly, her back to Emily. "No, I think I should go alone."

"No," Emily says firmly. "None of us are alone anymore. We have each other, and he can't take that away from us unless we let him. Don't let him," she says pleadingly.

Spencer's heart melts. Emily really is the strongest of them all. Spencer has been cowering in fear with furniture in front of her doors at night, but Emily is ready to fight for their right to exist in a world without that fear.

"Okay," Spencer says, her face vulnerable as she turns around. Emily swoops in and wraps her arms around her. Spencer tucks her chin into Emily's shoulder and tries not to cry. She sniffles and Emily rubs her back.

"It's okay, Spence," she murmurs. "We're going to be okay."

"Do you really think we can be?" Spencer asks, wiping her eyes as small sobs escape her. She holds Emily tighter, the girl's silky hair beneath her fingertips. She tries not to think about the last time she was this close to Emily.

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Because when I'm with you, I don't feel afraid," Emily says, raising her eyes to Spencer's.

"Me, too. I mean, I feel safe when I'm with you, too. Not when I'm with me, obviously," Spencer says, laughing through her tears. "How do you do that? You're like magic. You're so strong."

"I'm not," Emily says, shaking her head. "I never have been. Everyone knows that."

"You _are_ ," Spencer says. "I can see it in your eyes. You're ready to try to move on."

"Because we have to, or we never will. That doesn't make me brave. I haven't been sleeping very well at night, either," she admits.

"You haven't?" Spencer asks.

"No. I even stole my dad's gun, and I sleep with it under my pillow," Emily says sheepishly. "I'm still afraid, even though they have Andrew. It's like I can't stop feeling that way. To be honest, being around you is the only time I feel like things really will be okay." She pauses. "Just like when we were in that place. You make me feel safe."

Spencer bites her lip nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Does that include the kiss? Or does she mean in spite of the kiss? Either way, Spencer knows what she wants. She attempts to summon Emily's bravery.

"Do you want to spend the night with me tonight?"

"Yeah, of course!" Emily lights up like a Christmas tree. "Will your parents mind?"

"No," Spencer pulls back, trying to suppress a grin. "I'm sure they'll be fine with it, and maybe we can both get some real sleep. I know I sure could use it." Spencer laugh-cries again.

"Okay," Emily says, eyes sparkling as she smiles the first real smile Spencer's seen since before the Dollhouse. "I'll call my mom and ask."

"Okay," Spencer repeats, returning the smile. She lets out a relieved sigh. "Okay."


End file.
